Reuinion with Tom Riddle
by daysandweeks
Summary: The Hogwarts Class of '45 goes to their 30th class reunion, and someone with many names is there.


The magical ceiling of the Great Hall had been completely transformed so that the stars now read "Hogwarts, Class of '45, 30th Reunion." Already a large crowd was assembled, and a conga line had formed, although no one remembered dancing the conga during their Hogwarts days.

If there was one thing, or person, rather, that anyone remembered, it was the class's Head Boy. Bill Hannigan, already rather tipsy, sidled up to Mary McNess, the Class of '45 Head Girl. "So how's Tom doing these days?" he asked her. "Heard from him lately? Seen him here?"

Mary shrugged. "I haven't seen him in ages, honestly."

"I'm pretty sure he's wrapped up in that whole 'Dark Lord' thing," said a mocking, and eavesdropping Cheryl Crosby. She'd always been quite the gossip. "Just the other day I saw some nutty boy walking down Diagon Alley, saying something about joining up with the Death Eaters."

Mary shrugged and attempted to walk away, but Bill was blocking her path. "Death Eaters?" he asked Cheryl, and suddenly Mary wondered how she had put up with the two during her days at Hogwarts. Granted, they'd all been in different houses. Cheryl had been a Gryffindor, Bill a Hufflepuff, and Mary a Ravenclaw. Tom, who they were speaking of, had been in Slytherin, and Mary remembered her seventh year with him with mixed emotions. She'd looked forward to being Head Girl with him beside her—he was handsome, a model student. Some of his ideas, though, had really bothered her.

"Yes, that's what I said," Cheryl answered, annoyed. "Death Eaters. What nonsense is that?"

"What's that name he always wanted to go by?" Another prying former student had joined the question. Mary didn't remember his name, but she recognized him as a Gryffindor boy, who had obviously discarded of his nametag. "King…King Something-Or-Other, yeah?"

Mary rolled her eyes, knowing the answer to this one. Tom had repeatedly shown her how he'd created an anagram of his name, and after the fiftieth time of him doing so she gave up telling him how clever he was. It was just a smile and a nod from her. "Lord Voldemort," she informed the others.

"Yeah, that's it," the boy, who was now a middle-aged man, said with a nod. "He was always a bit out there." He twirled his finger near his right ear before saying, "I'm pretty sure there was a lot of inbreeding in his family, you know?"

"I suppose it's a good thing he's not here," Cheryl said, smacking her lips as she finished consuming something. "Have you heard about the disappearances…?"

Mary tuned out the words coming out of Cheryl's overly large mouth. She was having enough of this. Sure, Tom had never really rubbed her the right way, but so what if his career choice was becoming a possible mass murderer? That was his decision.

"Is Tom here tonight?"

Mary wasn't surprised to see yet another person join the conversation—a Slytherin girl named Lucinda Nealson who had always had her eyes on Tom Riddle.

"I haven't seen him," declared Cheryl.

Lucinda sent Mary an imploring look. "You organized this, right? You're the Head Girl and all. Didn't he help you?"

Mary shrugged. "I sent him an invitation, but he never got back to me."

It was at this exact moment that Mary's attention was completely, 100 drawn away from her babbling former classmates, who had just begun congratulating her on her terrific planning. Someone she just barely recognized had entered the room.

In his late forties, Tom Riddle was not the handsome young man he had been in his school days. Still, his presence commanded a certain attention. Everyone in the room turned their heads, but as Mary scanned the faces of those nearby her before returning her eyes to Tom, she realized that he no longer evoked some sort of strange, wary admiration among a majority of his classmates. The looks on their faces were looks of fear, disgust, confusion, and even, Mary realized, disdain. Still, there was a look of awe on everyone's faces.

Tom still stood tall, and his hair was still a jet black, but it seemed to be glued to his head, to his pasty skin and bloodshot, angry eyes. The sneer that had always been on his lips during his teenage years was still there, though, and even if he looked quite frail and terrible, there was something quite imposing about him.

_It could be the fact that he has about fifteen men in billowing black robes around him_, Mary thought to herself. _That always intimidates me_.

Still, even if Tom _was_ an hour and a half late, and even if he _had_ brought more than the one allowed guest with him, Mary, as the event's organize, had to welcome him graciously and invite him to participate in many activities and would he like a biscuit, perhaps? Barry McKnight's wife baked them and they're just splendid.

"Hello," Mary said, forcing smile on her face. From up close, it was unmistakable that the man before her, however strange-looking, was Tom.

"Hello, Mary," Tom said, as cordial as ever.

Although she'd greeted everyone with questions as to how they'd been and what they'd done with their life, Mary didn't think that was necessary right now. At least, she didn't feel comfortable doing so. "Follow me, if you will," she said, jumping straight to business. "There's a station over here with nametags…"

It was awkward to walk across the hall with Tom and his men behind him. Although everyone resumed talking, she was sure all eyes were on them. No one dared approach Tom.

She pointed to the nametags once they reached them, and Tom started filling his out. Mary watched him, intently. Yes, he'd definitely changed quite a bit, yet he was still the same. She was distracted from watching him, though, when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

Mary whirled around to see a young man holding a small pamphlet. "Would you like to read this over, Miss?" he asked her.

"Oh, um…thank you…"

Mary took the pamphlet and gazed at it skeptically. "HATE MUDBLOODS?" the front read.

As taken aback as she was, Mary found herself opening the pamphlet up to see a picture of a skull with a snake through it. "JOIN THE DEATH EATERS TODAY!"

_Were all capitals really…necessary?_

But Mary was distracted from her thoughts when Tom & Co. abruptly trotted away from her, cloaks billowing behind them. "Now really," someone spoke from beside her, and she turned to see Cheryl. "It's early July. Aren't they sweltering?" Mary shrugged and Cheryl cast a look at the pamphlet in Mary's hand. "What's that you've got there?"

"Just um…propaganda." Mary thrust the pamphlet and Cheryl and trotted off, hoping to find less gossipy guests, and hopefully avoid the imposing Tom Riddle.

However, Mary was stopped short on her way over to a group of Ravenclaw girls who had been her very best friends by one of Tom's companions. "I see you've passed on her packet," the greasy, thirty-something man said with a toothy smile. "Are you interested in joining up?"

"Er…um…"

Mary looked over the man's shoulder to see Tom talking to Lucinda Nealson, who appeared to be party captivated and very frightened. Something caught her eye as she did so.

Tom's nametag read: _Hello, my name is… LORD VOLDEMORT._

"Excuse me?" Mary turned back to what she assumed was the Death Eater before her.

"Oh, no thank you. I…well you see…" She trailed off, not able to think of a good excuse as to why she wasn't about to join up with Tom, or Lord Voldemort, or whoever he was calling himself these days. She was certain that even more was written on his nametag, and one glance confirmed her suspicions.

_Hello, my name is…LORD VOLDEMORT, a.k.a. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, a.k.a. You-Know-Who_.

"What does he prefer to be called, anyway?" Mary asked the Death Eater. "Tom? Or…Lord Voldemort…? Or, um…" For a Ravenclaw, she was certainly acting rather silly and poor at speaking.

The Death Eater nodded understandingly. "I was unsure about that too, at first. Master prefers to go by Lord Voldemort, but he's trying to establish a certain reputation, so for those who aren't aligned with him, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and You-Know-Who are acceptable. But if you're his follower, Master is generally a must."

"Oh," Mary said, taken aback. "I'll have to think about it…"

She walked away, planning on never becoming a Death Eater, and thinking that Tom Riddle, and those around him, had all gone rather crazy.

It was Lucinda Nealson who approached her next, a strange look on her face. She had just stopped speaking with Tom, or Voldemort, or…well, Mary figured You-Know-Who was ten times easier. Anyway, You-Know-Who had ventured on over to the snack table and was chomping on Mrs. McKnight's heavenly biscuits. Lucinda shivered, glancing at his back. "I think he just hit on me," she whispered to Mary.

"Oh?" Mary asked, confused.

"Yeah," Lucinda said. "I would have been flattered thirty years ago…but…do you know what he asked me?"

Mary sent Lucinda an imploring look instead of saying no.

"Hey, baby, want to become the eighth part of my soul? What's _that_ supposed to mean?"


End file.
